Katalina Baron Beinstein
by Jayce Gish
Summary: This character was created after the Pilot. May be raised to M.  Will be a small novel, kind of AU  near the end of Season III , hopefully funny and angst ridden.  I'm stuck at home under medical care & this is my road to sanity. Somewhat.  Please review.
1. Chapter 1

[Katalina Beinstein - CHAPTER ONE (INTRODUCTION)]

**Okay, Katalina Beinstein, Esq., is an original character that has been running amok throughout my thoughts for awhile. As long as I've been physically temporarily barred from work and I'm under house arrest with a nasty flu, infected ears, toxic gram positive throat cultures (look it up), and possible pneumonia (or just a drug-induced flashback to the 60's), I might as well start to type this out and share. I believe I have scribbled about 15 chapters on this theme in note form through the past 2-1/2 seasons of Castle, and there are, what, approximately 39 more days until Marlowe's "A Team" takes over with actual episodes, so this is to keep my mind from going too psychedelic from the narcotics and other ****prescribed**** happy drugs presently running through my system as I fight off battalions of viral beasties for the next few weeks. (When I get sick, I don't mess around with a mere cold, can you tell? Oh yeah, warning: This is "typing under the influence".) Sorry to all of the Dr. Davidson haters out there, but Josh and Kate are still together, and Rick is starting to face the fact that perhaps spending the rest of his life waiting for Kate to wake up and smell the coffee may not be in his best interest. **

**All it takes is another theft of yet another police horse for yet another **_**au naturale**_** gallop through Central Park by Our Writer Monkey to set this opus in motion. Otherwise, it is the same crew still with us that exists at the start of Season IV (Gates instead of Montgomery, Chet is still dead, Richard is still being tortured by his two ex-wives, Lanie and Esposito are still lovey-dovey, Jennie is still determined to marry Kevin Ryan, and Alexis is still planning to graduate high school early and attend Stanford with Ashley). I'm sure that another woman other than Beckett in Rick's bed will tick a lot of you off, but consider this a demonstration against the "Castle Wimp Factor" (with the exception of three rapidly delivered powerful right hooks) that I believe invaded the majority of Season III. I just think that it is long overdue for Richard to grow a pair. Or so the little voices in my mind that pulse with all the pretty colors are telling me. (Good thing I'm not allowed anything sharper than a crayon in my present state, eh? Don't worry; my neighbors have custody of my car keys so I can't drive my Prius down the sidewalk. Scalpel down, word processor engaged. . . heck, now I'm channeling ST:TNG! WTF?) **

**[Insert usual disclaimers here. Andrew W. Marlowe, I love you. In the infamous word(s) of Esposito, "Yo!" I'm just taking the cast of characters out for a spin; I promise to return them in good shape after I play with them for a bit. They followed me home, but I know I can't keep them.] This ranges in emotion from angst to hilarity. If no one reviews this, I will just let it sail into the sunset and I will continue to take my drugs, admire the patterns within the laminated flooring, and hold intense debating sessions with the living room furniture without any further comment. . . **

**And, before you ask, no, I do not have extra drugs to share with the rest of the class. Sorry. And, yes, I am staying off of Twitter until my faculties somewhat return. This piece will probably cause me enough grief soon enough. Based on this endless intro, someone has got to leave a review. Please? Enjoy!**

JUDGE STANLEY MARKOWITZ slowly shook his bald head, thinking that if he had hair such as was on the man standing in front of his bench at this time, the Judge would have been rapidly ripping it out of his own head in total frustration.

The Judge's dark brown eyes were downcast. They had been here before. When had it been, 1998? 2003? 2006? No matter. The judge sat behind his raised desk, and the defendant, standing before him in his courtroom, barefoot, and clad in a bright orange jumpsuit issued by the county jail, smiled up at him, looking not the least bit contrite.

"Richard, why am I experiencing a bout of deja vu?"

Renowned mystery writer Richard Edgar Castle grinned his lopsided grin. The judge was one of his poker buddies, along with the Mayor of New York City, the District Attorney, and half of the judiciary of Lower Manhattan. Talk about shooting ducks in a barrel. "I don't know, Stanley, why are you?" There was a notable twinkle in the man's rather bloodshot blue eyes. "Ah, you're not hiding any coffee under your robe, by any chance. . .?"

Markowitz banged his gavel. Loudly. The sound appeared to disturb the defendant, who was still suffering from the residual effects caused by his latest drinking binge. "Address me as 'Your Honor', not as 'Stanley'. Please, Rick, some amount of decorum." He paused and started to review the arresting officer's report.

"Coffee would be more civilized. . ."

Markowitz banged down his gavel again and with even more force, if that was possible. Castle winced at the level of the noise. "Ouch."

Markowitz looked at him with great disappointment.

Castle smiled shyly. "Ouch, Your Honor. . .?"

"Okay, Rick, who did you hire this time to represent you in my court?" Markowitz knew that Richard Castle's appearance was simply a formality. Upon learning of the latest stunt by one of New York City's most famous, wealthy, photogenic, and faithful defenders of The Big Apple, the Mayor would send down a memo, and Richard Castle would be released on his own recognizance, and, after making a suitable generous donation to a selected New York City-based charity, the charges would be dismissed. Like they always were.

"Come on, Rick, I've got a bunch of real cases to hear before lunch. Actual criminals. Actual crimes." He sighed. "Who did you hire for the sake of appearances in front of Lady Liberty to get you off this time?" Markowitz took a second look at the report. "Really, naked again? Cantering through Central Park. . . Another stolen police horse?"

"It wasn't stolen. I simply borrowed it." Castle paused and shrugged his shoulders. "Okay, without permission. . ."

"And, pray tell, why?"

". . . It's autumn?"

"And, you decided to skinny dip at 6:10 PM on a Thursday in that particular Central Park fountain because. . .?"

Castle ran his hand through his thatch of thick brown hair, not realizing that such a simple act would only further annoy Markowitz, who had watched his own hair disappear down the drain by the time he was twenty-five.

"That part wasn't exactly planned. That was the horse's doing, Stan . . .ah, Your Honor."

Castle looked down at the illl fitting prison jumpsuit that he was wearing. For a man who prided himself on custom made cashmere jackets and hand finished silk shirts, the neon orange cotton one piece did nothing for his toned masculine physique. "Do these come in any other color? I'm not a 'Summer', I'm a 'Winter'."

Markowitz gestured with his gavel for the third time. "Do I have to. . .?"

"No need." Castle winced in the anticipation of another sharp bang.

"Please cooperate with me, Rick. Where is your lawyer?"

"Ah, I don't have one. I haven't had the opportunity to hire one between being dragged out of my holding cell and being paraded before you, Stan."

"You didn't get to make a phone call upon your initial processing?"

"I tried to order Chinese. I was hungry after swimming all those laps . . ."

Markowitz rubbed his forehead. "Bailiff O'Hara, before me, please."

An exceedingly tall uniformed officer of the court stood next to Castle, who just smiled up at him. "Hi, George."

"Hi, Castle."

"And, how's Daisy?"

"She starts high school in a few days. She's excited, and her mom and I are living in total fear of the next three years. How is Alexis?"

"My daughter is perfect, as always. Thanks for asking."

Markowitz cleared his throat. "As much as I hate to break up this mutual admiration society, George, go and find a lawyer in the hallway and haul him or her in here to represent said defendant. We have a full docket to get through this morning."

"Who should I 'volunteer' for Castle's pro bono appearance?"

"The second body you find with a briefcase and an iPhone. And, make sure that they know to send Rick a bill. Now, go."

George smiled at Castle and walked through the swinging gate, down the center aisle of the visitors' seating area, and opened the courtroom doors. Immediately to his left, he spied two individuals sitting on a side bench, both wearing suits and both holding smart phones. He noticed the male first, and then the female. Well, orders were orders.

He stood directly in front of the woman who was reviewing notes on a legal pad. "Counselor, Judge Markowitz requests your services. We have a defendant in need of representation. Now."

The woman looked down at the shoes of the figure before her, and slowly raised her head, rolled her eyes, and then stood up. Standing as tall as possible and wearing two inch heels, the top of her head didn't even reach the bottom of George's chin.

"George, I'm waiting for my client," she said, speaking with a pronounced New England accent that gave his first name two distinctive syllables.

Bailiff O'Hara shrugged his shoulders and helped the petite woman to her feet, holding her briefcase for her as he steered her into the court room. "Sorry, Kat. Just following my orders. Oh, and be sure to send this one a bill. In fact, pad it. He's rich. He can easily afford it."

The odd couple approached the bench where Markowitz raised an eyebrow as he recognized the woman being escorted into his court.

"Katalina Baron Beinstein for the defendant. . . Ah, Judge, exactly where is my client?"

Markowitz had an evil smile on his face as he pointed with his gavel to Katalina's right, indicating the orange clad figure seated behind the defense table, his head resting on his folded arms.

Katalina turned. And froze. She instantly recognized this particular male. It may have been a few years, but she knew that head of hair. Not to mention the body that was attached to it and the immature brain that supposedly controlled the entire individual. Her hands clenched at her sides. God was punishing her, but for what reason, she had no idea. "Richard Alexander Rodgers? Ah, Richard Alexander Edgar Castle!"

Castle lifted his head from the table where it had been resting on his arms. He didn't even need to look up, he knew that voice. Boy, did he know that voice. No one else in this entire city of nine million pronounced his middle name as "Ed-gaahh". Suddenly, his headache was increasing in its intensity. What had he done in a previous life to merit this? He didn't even try to smile at her. "Katalina. It's been a while."

"Not long enough," was her retort.

He mumbled back to her, "Feeling's mutual."

Only then did their eyes meet. Lime green vs. bloodshot cerulean blue. The silence was deafening. Neither looked happy at what was obviously a painful reunion. After a momentary pause, the following two words were uttered simultaneously.

"Oy," she said.

"Shit," he said, and he dropped his head back down to the desk with a notable thud.

Markowitz smiled. He couldn't have planned this if he had tried. The Mayor was going to love to hear about Castle's latest escapade, not to mention who was representing him in court. In Markowitz's court. Castle was about to pay deeply for every winning poker hand he had drawn in the past nine years. And, both Markowitz and His Honor The Mayor would have ring side seating for the festivities.

This was definitely going to be better than Shark Week.

Markowitz smiled. Yes, it was nice to be king!

**Okay, if you like the set up, please review. Several chapters of flash backs to follow. I think Markowitz's first name as mentioned in Season I was Stanley, but I'm not sure. For the purposes of this story, it is now. I'm also trying to establish when Castle was married to Gina and for how long, so that might also be a flexible detail. Clearly, as demonstrated by this first chapter, this could end up being a small novel, or could go "poof" if there is either limited or no interest. I'm not too proud to beg, and I can always offer bribes. Pick one. But the drugs are mine. Future author notes will be sparse, I promise.**


	2. Chapter 2

Katalina - Chapter 2 - Memories

**Flashback. We'll be back in the early 90s for a few chapters to describe how Castle and Katalina initially met. So, set your Way Back Machine. Castle is about 21 years old, and Katalina is pushing 30. (My homage to younger men!) **

THE YEAR WAS 1992. Katalina had just turned 29, and she been an Associate at the law firm of Kendall, Blakely & Watkins for almost a full year; more precisely, she was their first female Associate with less than a full year of experience, so she was handed all of the bottom tier busy jobs, such as forming corporations for artists in search of a additional tax rate deduction. She knew her job backwards and forwards, and she didn't kid herself when she was inevitably paraded out for any and every potential female client that the New York City firm wanted to attract ("See how forward thinking we are? We not only have a female lawyer, but she's Jewish!"). Katalina would smile, pretend to take notes as she sat in on the introductory meeting, and that would be the last she ever saw of the parade of actresses, feminist authors, and classy European sopranos. The men who were her superiors would quickly take charge of the new talent (especially if the women were single, young, and shapely), and Katalina would dutifully fill out the paperwork creating their limited liability companies, write the Minutes of their only-on-paper Board of Directors meetings, and wait until the next time she was asked to be put on display for yet another potential client with XX chromosomes.

Still, the firm was well respected in the artistic community, and it allowed her the flexibility of working while tending to her two young sons, Abraham and Adam. Katalina was technically still married to their father, but the romance had disappeared years ago as Cantor Simon Beinstein spent fewer hours at home with his family and more time "tutoring" various thirty-something bleach blondes with vocal lessons and other instruction that Katalina pretended she knew nothing about. Their Brooklyn neighborhood was tight, and although the entire congregation knew that Simon was holding most of his classes while in a horizontal position, Katalina was given the respect that her husband's position entitled her to. Although many of the synagogue were not pleased that a woman who was a wife and a mother was working outside of the house, they didn't make it an issue. Well, not too much of an issue. As long as Bram and Adam were cared of, the neighbors were willing to be a little lenient to compensate for the shame that Simon's countless affairs brought on his family.

And, it was another corporation in development that was bringing Katalina to her present destination, that being the executive conference room on the 25th floor. There was a new popular writer who had just appeared on the publishing scene and whose first novel was promising of many more volumes to come, and Senior Partner Kevin Noel Kendall himself had asked for the documents to be brought up for presentation to Mr. Castle for his signature before another law firm grabbed him up. So, having been unable to secure the services of someone from the mail room, the petite woman was presently struggling with a heavy box of legal papers, several pounds of manilla folders, and enough notarial journals and rubber stamps to choke a horse as she walked down the executive hallway of the 25th floor to the glass-surrounded conference room and looked in.

There was a young man who appeared to look about seventeen years old as he sat restlessly swiveling in one of the grey leather chairs that surrounded the black granite conference table. His shock of brown hair was in need of a trim, his bangs were almost in his eyes, and his long legs were wrapped in a pair of tight worn jeans and high top sneakers with a white cotton shirt that hadn't seen an iron in many a washing. He also wore an expression of "I wish I was anywhere but here" clearly all over his face. Apparently Mr. Kendall, the senior partner, had brought in grey-suited reinforcements in the form of the other three partners who were also sitting at the table, all trying to impress upon Mr. Castle that he needed to adopt some measure of decorum when at his increasingly popular book signing appearances, and how autographing the cleavage of his adoring female readers was perhaps not in his best interest for a long term career. Mr. Richard Edgar Castle was not really paying attention. Heck, he thought, I'm twenty-one, a good looking, single, red-blooded male, with a youthful sort of attraction, and I'm rapidly becoming rich due to my talent. I have time on my hands, and if I'm in the middle of an adoring throng of pretty young things who want me to flirt with them, yeah, in addition to signing copies of my book, I'm gonna get me a few phone numbers and autograph a few willingly offered breasts.

Katalina had misjudged not only the weight of the box, but also the distance to the door, and she could feel the box growing heavier with each step. There was no way to escape the law of physics: she knew that she was going to drop it, and it was just a question of exactly where, from what height, and precisely when that would happen.

Suddenly, it was more like "here" and "now" as the documents started to shift and the container was suddenly unbalanced. "Oh, damn. . ."

It was also precisely at that moment while in mid-swivel that Mr. Castle spied Ms. Beinstein through the glass panes that surrounded the conference room. It was his chance to escape from the parental lecture with a perfect excuse for doing so, and he sprang into action.

Katalina was surprised when the box, still in her arms, felt suddenly weightless and ceased in its fall to the carpet.

"Miss, allow me to rescue you from this ungainly obstacle," said a gentle baritone voice.

Katalina looked up to discover a pair of beautiful blue eyes smiling down at her. She wasn't sure where this very tall and rather handsome young man had materialized from, but he now had total control of the box, and he lifted it from her with one muscular arm as if the offending cardboard was weightless.

"Thank you, kind Sir." He looked somewhat familiar to her, but she couldn't place where she might have seen him before. After all, New York City was a big place. And she was sure that she would have remembered those big blue bedroom eyes.

The man made a bow from the waist, and mimed the doffing of a hat with his free hand. "It looks too heavy a load for such a little lady to carry all by herself without assistance. Therefore, I offer my services, should you be willing to accept them." Then, he winked at her and lowered the volume of his voice. "I usually do not make it a habit of rescuing fair damsels in distress, but for this once, I would like to mix business with pleasure, and I would consider it an honor to be of assistance to your person this one time. . ."

Ricky Castle couldn't help but notice that despite the modest high collar of the woman's blouse, as he had made a grab for the falling box, his right hand had experienced a brief but memorable contact with a firm and generously sized breast. And, while he was only a semi-expert at determining these things, he could have sworn that this one was real. And, as was the usual case, his body was expressing it's approval of that brief encounter. Yes, this was far superior in so many ways to the stuffed suits surrounding him in that room. And, as if her ample chest wasn't reward enough, she was short. His former girlfriend, Kira, had been short. He liked short. Not just in comparison to him, but she couldn't be much over five feet tall. He could image her standing next to him, while she wearing a tight but low cut stretchy top, as he gazed down in admiration of what had to be a delightful display of ample cleavage.

For her part, Katalina took notice of the man's profile, and then realized why he looked so familiar to her. She had been given a copy of his book to keep her motivated as she churned out the usual standard contractual forms, and as he turned his head to glance back into the conference room for the approval of the partners ("Yeah, I escaped, but look, hey, I'm doing good and not evil. . ."), she recognized the same angle as the photograph of the author on the back of the book jacket. This was Richard Castle. This was the hot new mystery writer that Black Pawn publishing had just leaked that they were signing to a multi-book deal.

Oh, shit, this was the same client that her firm was trying to court into accepting their legal services, and he had just come to her aid.

That was when Katalina came to the realization that she was solely responsible for the disruption of whatever legal business had been taking place on the other side of the glass panels. She glanced into the room and was dismayed to see the senior partner of her law firm glaring at her. That was also the moment that Katalina realized that, after almost a full year's service to the firm, that she was about to be instantly labeled as a "known distraction". And, that was not a good thing to be. Associates were like mice, to be where they were instructed to be, to do what needed to be done, and to toil unnoticed for as long as it was necessary before one was noticed - if one was to be noticed at all.

And Katalina was aware that she was being really, really noticed. Apparently, Richard Castle had decided that it was better to be hanging out in a hallway with her than to be tending to important legal instruction by the senior partner. And, it was becoming apparent that Mr. Castle preferred to be spending precious time with her and a large cardboard container that he was attempting to balance on two fingers while standing in the hallway. Katalina noticed that Mr. Kendall was looking at his watch and then returned to glare at the firm's lone female Associate. He did this twice more as Richard Castle continued his juggling attempts, finally realizing that the lady's attention was no longer on him but on the suits.

Castle might have recently graduated college (he had only a few weeks to put the finishing touches on his next crime novel), but damn, he liked being the center of attention. He had learned to fight for the spotlight, since his mother, the Broadway actress Martha Rodgers, had an innate ability to draw the focus of everyone else in the immediate vicinity. So, if her son Ricky wanted to be the featured attraction, he had his work cut out for him. And, he had learned from the best. From his overly flamboyant and dramatic mother. No, he demanded to be the center of attention, be it spinning a story, playing a round of golf, or just lounging pool side. He wasn't sure exactly what was going on at this moment with this woman that he wanted to know better, but he was determined to regain center stage. It wasn't that he needed to be popular; he didn't just want to be in control. He needed to be the focus, the focus of all of the attention. And, Richard Castle was going to take whatever steps were necessary to make sure he was once again everyone's priority.


End file.
